XIX — An Undisclosed Location
"Any threes?"
"Go fish."
Rowena was bored out of her skull. She'd been in the bunker enough times by now that she'd already stolen anything she particularly wanted from the Winchesters—none of which they'd happened to notice yet, mind—and snooping through their belongings only held so much entertainment. Dean's reasonable stock of porn had been worth a good laugh, but Sam and Cas's rooms were unfortunately lacking in dirty personals.
So. Here she sat, playing cards with possibly the strongest supernatural being still present on the planet. Lucifer's own. The universe did have a terrible sense of humor, didn't it?
"Any Queens?" Rowena posited.
"Go fish."
She drew from the deck. Sipped at her wine. Wished for death. She'd made plenty of grand promises about staying until she saw her son again, but she'd lasted approximately three hours, and she was already tempted to head home. If she popped in unannounced on the Winchesters enough, surely she would catch her son eventually.
Right?
Fergus need only give her a chance. She hadn't changed, not really. She didn't really think people were capable of it, in any sincere way. But how she thought of him had changed, and she could change how she acted. She could be better in that much, at least, like she'd been better in a great deal of things in recent years. She'd helped save the world. No one could call her exclusively evil, not anymore.
Still definitely a little bit evil, though. She'd be scandalized if anyone implied differently.
Maybe it wasn't so much that people changed; just became more of who they really were.
Maybe she could become more of a mother. If she really tried. And she wanted to.
"Rowena?"
She looked up at Jack, who was watching her closely. "Yes?"
"Are you alright?"
She sighed, looking down at her cards. Too many cards. "I don't have the time or patience to answer that question."
Jack opened his mouth to speak again, but it was at that moment that the Winchesters, Castiel, and Crowley appeared at the foot of the stairs.
They were both out of their chairs in a moment. Seemed she wouldn't have to wait in this subterranean hole for long after all. "Boys." She cautiously let her eyes slide to her son. "Fergus."
Crowley held up a hand. "Not now, Mother."
She scowled. If not now, then when?
"Something's wrong, isn't it?" Jack asked, after a quick check of his troupe of adopted fathers. "You guys look like something's wrong."
"Something's always wrong, but things are more wrong than usual," Dean provided, releasing Crowley's shoulder. "Things didn't go great for Az and AJ in Heaven."
"Naomi's trapped them in Heaven's Prison. She intends to use them as a power source," Cas explained quickly. "We're trying to find a way to get them out."
Jack didn't hesitate, brave wee soul as he was. "What can I do to help?"
Sam frowned with his entire body. "That's...that's kind of the thing, Jack. We..."
"They need you to go offer yourself up as a prisoner in Anthony and Aziraphale's place, because Cas's power level doesn't trip Heaven's trigger quite like yours does. Then those two will scurry back to their world, tie and truss their Gabriel, and turn him over to Heaven, whereupon supposedly, you'll be let go," Crowley cut in, evidently wanting to dispel any question of what was to be asked of Jack. "They've already wrung their hands about it sufficiently and decided that the choice is ultimately up to you." Crowley arched an eyebrow at Jack. "Ball's in your court, darling."
"I'll do it," Jack said immediately, ever the hero. "I owe them that much."
"Jack, you need to understand that Heaven might not be willing to let you go. We can't guarantee that they'll stick to the deal," Sam reminded him, clearly wanting him to go in fully informed.
"Might not? More like will not." Rowena abandoned her cards on the table and stood. "They'd be daft to let Jack go."
"Ah, but it's mutually assured destruction, isn't it? They keep Jack, they die. But if they die, Heaven spills out onto Earth. It's a lose-lose. These three idiots' immense capability to make any and all terrible decisions in the name of love is the best nuclear deterrent in the world," Crowley reasoned.
"Are you willing to bet the boy's life on that?" Rowena questioned. She wouldn't admit it, but she had developed a bit of a fondness for Jack and his guileless innocence, something so rare and usually very easy to corrupt and manipulate. Had she been her old self, she would have done just that, of course—but she'd thrown in with the Winchesters, for better or for worse.
Probably for the worse, considering that Sam was the one supposedly destined to kill her—but that was a problem for Future Rowena.
"I certainly am, but I've known him for less than twenty-four hours, so." Crowley shrugged. "I assume these three put more stock in the Lucifer Junior's continued existence, however."
If Jack had hackles, they would have been raised. "Don't call me that," he ordered Crowley, a flash of gold in his eyes. "And you say it's my choice—if it's my choice, then I choose to do this. It's the only way we might be able to solve this without anybody getting hurt."
"Well, except their Gabriel," Dean acknowledged, tone absent any remorse. "But he sounds like a dickhead, anyway."
Cas approached Jack, face creased with a deep-set worry, radiating 'concerned parent' energy. "Are you sure about this?" he asked softly, searching Jack's eyes.
"I'm positive. We can't just leave them up there. It's wrong."
"A pillar of morality and not even two," Crowley remarked. "Touching. Shall we get on?"
"Wait, hold on," Dean held up a hand. "I wanna call Az and AJ first."
Cas cocked his head. "Why?"
"Because I ain't in love with the idea of them trying to trap an Archangel on their own. We know they're not strong enough to kill one, and trapping one of the bastards can be tricky—can say that from personal experience. We could bring some stuff from our world over to their world, holy oil, the angel cuffs. Sammy and I could help them out."
"Dean, you can't go through Heaven," Cas reminded him.
"Unless you fancy being incinerated," Rowena chimed.
"Okay, okay, but Az said he just like—ripped a hole in the universe and stepped through, 'cause it was thinner where AJ was pulled through. So what if the spot you summoned AJ to, that shitty old barn, what if we can do the same there?" Dean blinked several times, a realization hitting him. "Man, wish we would've had that idea a few hours ago, wouldn't have had to send the poor bastards to Heaven in the first place."(1)
"It's..." Sam made a face, seeming to mull the plan over. "It could work. But if the tear took Aziraphale to our Heaven, what if a tear from this end takes us to theirs?"
"Their Heaven won't eat you from the inside out," Crowley provided. "No reason you wouldn't be able to pass through. Now, passing through without getting caught, that's another matter entirely."
"I can just as easily go through with Crowley and Aziraphale," Cas said. "There's no reason for you two to risk yourselves."
"No, you need to stay in Heaven, that way if and probably when Naomi and the God Squad turn traitor on us, you're already there, and you can cut your way out with Jack in tow. If you leave Heaven, there's nothing to say they can't do something to keep you out. Shut the tear from their side, close up the Gate on Earth. It's too big of a risk. If you're there already, they can't do shit," Dean argued.
The angel didn't seem to have an argument. "I suppose you're right, but you and Sam going to another universe...it makes me uneasy. We don't have a good track record with this."
"We got out of Apocalypse World, didn't we?"
"Our Gabriel didn't," Cas said flatly. "And we all just as easily could have died."
"The Good Omens universe is hardly so dire," Crowley spoke up. "Think Hitchhiker's meets," he waved around the room, "all this sod, but take out the atmosphere of desperation." Crowley stuffed his hands in his pockets, tilting up his chin. He was thinking. Rowena wanted to know of what. "If it'll soothe your humors, Kitten, I can go with the boys."
Cas seemed surprised, but nodded. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but yes, I think it would make me feel better if you accompanied them."
"I'm coming as well then," Rowena huffed. "You can't escape me forever, Fergus."
"Is that a challenge?" Crowley asked, barely casting her a glance. "Fine. Not as if you can be dissuaded anyway."
"There. We got two demons, an angel, a witch, and me and Sam. Gabriel doesn't stand a chance," Dean said, as close to optimism as he ever got.
"We still need Aziraphale and Crowley's take on this," Sam said, not looking nearly so game as his older brother. "Rowena, is there a way for us to dial them, even though they don't have a mirror?"
Rowena pursed her lips. "Well, technically, yes. It will dial to whatever reflective surface is nearest them. It's not a perfect science. At least in the sense that it's not science at all."
"It'll probably just dial Crowley's sunglasses," Sam reasoned. "Okay, Cas, hand me the mirror. If we're doing this, let's do it."
Crowley rested his head against Aziraphale's shoulder, minding his head injury. They sat side by side, legs parallel, backs to the featureless concrete wall of their cell. The room was cold in the way vacant places were; like there was so much nothing that the only thing left to fill it was stark, frigid air. A chill with a weight to it. Maybe he just felt it more poignantly because of his cold-blooded nature, but he would kill a man for a throw blanket at the moment. Aziraphale would have to do. He was preternaturally warm, and Crowley was mercilessly sucking away his heat.
Aziraphale was reading Good Omens to him, in an effort to keep him awake...to mixed success. Aziraphale still had to nudge him every few minutes.
Crowley just closed his eyes and tried to distance himself from the painful throbbing in his skull.
Neither of them discussed the elephant in the room: what if Cas didn't come back?
Crowley had begun drifting off again, tempted by the enchanting idea of painless, blissful unconsciousness. This time he was startled out of the gentle slide into darkness by the soft press of lips to his. Crowley's eyes fluttered open.
"Stay with me, if you would," Aziraphale requested, taking up his entire vision. "It won't be much longer now."
"You can't know that," Crowley argued weakly.
"Just...have a little faith, yes?" Aziraphale said with a thin smile. The joke wasn't funny, but Crowley tried to return the smile in kind. Aziraphale kissed him again, and that was easier. Even more tempting than oblivion.
"Ew, gross!"
With a sharp intake of air, Aziraphale reeled backwards in surprise, falling gracelessly on his arse.
"What the—" Crowley whipped off his sunglasses, turning them towards him. "Dean!?"
"And friends," said Other Crowley. In the surface of his sunglasses he could see a narrowed view of the bunker's foyer, with Dean, Sam, Cas, Other Crowley, Rowena, and Jack all gathered tightly together to try to fit into frame at once.
"Did we interrupt an intimate moment?" Rowena asked, painted lips curving in a knowing smile.
"We should at least have the option as to whether we answer the call or not," Aziraphale huffed, brushing non-existent dust off his coat and righting himself. "We were—ah—"
"Snogging. Obviously," Crowley cut in. Aziraphale blushed. "What's up? That daring rescue's coming, I hope?"
"Yeah, it is. You're welcome," Dean told them.
"Thank you, Jack, we mean that most sincerely. We know what a risk this is for you, and we—"
"We can do the tearfully-thanking-him-on-our-knees bit when he gets up here!" Crowley snapped. "Now, what is it and why is it important enough to not get here bloody faster?"
Dean rolled his eyes and said, "We were wondering if you two might want some help."
And so a plan was formed. Rather brilliantly, if Aziraphale didn't say so himself.
Jack, standing substitute in Heaven's Prison, with Castiel watching on from the other side of the bars, keeping an eye on Naomi and her angels to make sure they held up their end of the bargain.
Crowley, now fully healed(2), back through the tear in reality and into their world, to halt Anathema from closing it up, so they would still have easy access between their two universes.(3)
Aziraphale, on Earth, now with the Winchesters, their Crowley, and Rowena, back in the barn that his Crowley had originally been summoned to when this whole mess began. Aziraphale had already opened up a new rift, ready and waiting to be passed through.
Crowley had initially not been fond of the idea of the Winchesters and Co. assisting them in capturing Gabriel, but Aziraphale had quickly overridden the demon's protests and readily agreed on both of their behalf. Crowley didn't think much of Gabriel, and thought the right amount of clever trickery would land him in their clutches without much issue. Aziraphale was not so sure. If Gabriel caught wise to them, the result would not be pretty—and he was already likely to distrust them, given that they'd derailed 6,000 years of divine plans just six weeks earlier.
The two of them in a fight against Gabriel was not something he particularly liked to envision. He imagined it would go very much like he and Dean's fight with Michael had. The primary difference between the two scenarios being that at least while Michael was beating the absolute tar out of him, they'd been inside Dean's head, where he couldn't die.
If he and Crowley went toe-to-toe with Gabriel, they definitely, certainly, could die. And yes, Gabriel was a bureaucrat, but he was still an Archangel. It may have been several thousand years since he had actively used a sword, but it had been just as long for Aziraphale as well—and Aziraphale wasn't blessed with the raw power of an Archangel.
He was beginning to think Crowley had allowed himself to become too comfortable in the Winchesters' universe, a world where they were significantly stronger than most other beings, and furthermore, were unaffected by many of the things that could thwart other supernatural entities natural to this reality. Back in their own world, they were still perfectly unremarkable in comparison to plenty of others of their species, able to gain the upper-hand only through his wit and Crowley's not unimpressive imagination.
The bottom-line was: Gabriel wasn't the kind of being you wanted to upset. And capturing him to be held against his will for all eternity would be very upsetting indeed. He would feel immensely better with back-up, especially given the scope of threats the Winchesters had dealt with over the years. Aziraphale knew only the barest details, but what he had heard was enough to instill at least some kind of trust in their abilities. And having a powerful demon and equally powerful witch along was a comfort as well.
They stood in the barn, the four all looking expectantly at Aziraphale.
"Now, herein lies the problem," Aziraphale said. "This rent in space and time, assuming it functions as the first portal did, will open up to our Heaven. Humans in Heaven will look very, very suspicious, needless to say—we have them all quarantined—err, rather, tucked away safely—in their own little individual neighborhoods, microcosms of paradise from which they never stray. So, I'll need to disguise you four."
"As angels?" asked the King of Hell, arching an eyebrow. "Mate, I don't know how to tell you this—"
"Actually, dear fellow, I'm going to disguise you as demons. Recent events have brought to light a kind of working relationship between Heaven and Hell, at least when it comes to matters of great importance. I can't disguise you as angels—you would be caught out immediately. But demons carrying classified information from Hell to Heaven, that may be a far easier ruse to pull off."
"Glad I came wearing my demon disguise."
"I'll actually need to tweak a few things with all of you. All of your auras are...well pure isn't the word I would use, so you won't look overtly suspicious on an existential level, but you'll need animal aspects to pass for demons."
"What, you gotta give us tattoos like AJ?" Dean asked.
"Not quite. Crowley's aspect is rather understated, and that alone makes him stand-out. I'll be giving you more prevalent animal characteristics so you look more...unremarkable, let's say."
"You'll be able to change us back?" Rowena asked seriously.
"In you and your son's case, I rather think you'll be able to change yourselves back," Aziraphale provided pleasantly. "But yes, I can return everyone to their normal selves when all is said and done. Shall we get started?"
"One more thing," Crowley said. He turned to his mother and smirked. Then he snapped his fingers.
Chains rocketed from the dirt, as if brought up from the very earth itself, and clamped around her wrists. Their length diminished by half with a woosh, dragging her down so she was on her knees in the center of the barn floor.
"I'm afraid you won't be coming on this vacation with us, mother. So sorry."
"Fergus!" she raged, tugging against her bindings. "Let me go this instant! I brought you into this world, and—"
"You can take me out? Figured you say as much. Thought things were going to be different this time?"
She was speechless for a moment, floundering. She looked down at her chains, enchanted, of course, then back up at Crowley. "Oh, what, you expect me to take this lying down?"
"No, I expect you to break out in," he made a show of checking his watch, "less than an hour. But by then we'll be long gone, Aziraphale will be back to Heaven(4) to use the other door, and you'll be sorely unprepared to dive into a foreign reality unaccompanied. You'll have to just stay here and guard this side of the portal, like a good team player." A tight, withering smile. "I'll be deprived of your nattering attempts to rekindle our non-existent mother-son relationship. Such a shame."
"Fergus—!" Rowena said again, a great deal louder.
"Could we perhaps address this another time? The longer we wait, the longer poor Jack is trapped in Heaven," Aziraphale reminded the room at large, very eager to skip over whatever was going on between Rowena and her son.
Rowena made to speak again, but Crowley snapped his fingers once more, and duct tape covered her mouth. "Problem solved."
Sam shot Rowena an apologetic look, but seemed to agree with Aziraphale, "You're right, let's get a move on."
"Lovely. Alright, let me just..." Aziraphale stepped up to Sam. He lifted a hand, fingers hovering over Sam's face. "Something that fits..."
"I don't call him Moose for nothing," Crowley said, flicking his gaze to Sam.
"Ah. Quite right."
"Aziraphale, maybe don't—" Sam began to plead, but too late. Aziraphale tapped the side of his head, and Sam winced as antlers sprouted from behind his ears. Not the size of a normal moose's, of course, getting through doorways would be a mite difficult—but large enough to give off the effect.
Crowley let out a snort of laughter, and Dean seemed to be holding back from doing the same.
"Great. Yeah. Thanks." Sam grimaced. "These are heavy."
"Be grateful you don't have an actual animal on your head. Some demons choose to inhabit their beast forms and then just have them ride around on a human body for convenience."
"Right...incredibly grateful."
Aziraphale moved onto Dean, who held up a warning finger. "No antlers."
"Of course not."
"AND—" he grabbed Aziraphale's wrist before he could touch him. "Don't make me a squirrel, either."
Aziraphale had been about to do just that, so he had to rethink his plan. He narrowed his eyes at Dean's aura, trying to find something that would fit. "Alright, alright, let go, I've got it."
Dean reluctantly released him, and Aziraphale gave him a tap.
Dean sighed miserably as his hair shifted to a sleek golden color, and his eyes melted into the large brown eyes of a friendly golden retriever. "You spend a few days mind-melded to a dog one time..."(5)
Crowley was beside himself. He scratched behind Dean's ear, and Dean's tongue fell out of his mouth on impulse, before he promptly smacked Crowley upside the back of the head. "HANDS—OFF! And if you throw a tennis ball, I swear to God I will rip your throat out with my teeth."
"Easy there, boy, wouldn't want to have to get you neutered," Crowley mocked, stepping out of Dean's reach with a vindictive grin.
Aziraphale approached the demon, ready to transform him as well. Crowley watched him with an air of caution. "Nothing too squirmy. I'm no snake."
"I would never. My Crowley prides himself on being the one and only. Never mind the fact that I get a much different impression from you..." Aziraphale touched two fingers to Crowley's temple. Crowley shivered a bit. His eyes slipped shut for a moment, then reopened, golden and cat-like. Small whisker-like indents appeared on his cheeks as well.
"A literal pussy," Dean laughed.
Crowley reached behind him, making a vaguely horrified sound. "A tail? Really?"
"As if they don't already fight like cats and dogs," Sam lamented.
"I actually gave Crowley a lion aspect," Aziraphale informed him lightly. "King and all that. Seemed proper."
As if in agreement, Crowley's smile was positively feline. Aziraphale had sharpened his teeth as well, only adding to the effect. "Oh, you're growing on me, angel."
Aziraphale wasn't sure how he felt about being called 'angel' by anyone but his own Crowley, but he let it pass. "Well, there we are. You're all ready to go. I wish you the best of luck in your endeavors, and, as they say—I'll see you on the other side."
The three of them lined up in front of the rift.
"So," Crowley drawled. "Who wants to go first?"
Dean sighed. Held out his fist. Sam did the same. Crowley rolled his eyes, but mimicked them.
"Rock, paper, scissors, shoot."
Crowley was scissors. Both Winchesters were paper. The brothers both made similar expressions of dismay and turned to face each other.
"Rock, paper, scissors, shoot."
Dean had gone with paper again. Sam, scissors.
"Son of a bitch," Dean swore. He looked warily at the portal. "Fine...here goes nothing."
Crowley entered back into his own world quite happily, but had exactly zero chance to enjoy it before he was beset upon by what he determined to be a broomstick, a rake, two plungers taped together, and a meter stick, all of which struck him about the knees, waist, and in the case of the taped together plungers, over the back of the head.
"What the Heaven—!?"
"Stop, stop, it's Mr. Crowley!"
Crowley whipped off his sunglasses and stared down at the Them, all lined up in front of him, armed with their respective weapons. It had been Wensleydale who had called for a stop to the attack, sheathing his broomstick. Pepper held the plungers, Brian the meter stick, and Adam the rake, which had done a brilliant job of bruising Crowley's knees.
Newt and Anathema stood by the island counter in his kitchen, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.
"They—we told them not to come," Newt managed. "But they got on a bus and came anyway, told their parents they were off at Wensleydale's great aunt's, and Wensleydale's parents think he's at youth camp—we—we were going to send them back, really, but—"
"We're guarding the entire world against tentacle monsters!" Brian declared proudly. "We've made sure nuffin gets in!"
"Except you obviously, but this is your flat, so," Pepper tacked on. "Also, it's depressing in here. Why don't you have any colors anywhere?"
"It's called minimalism, look it up." Crowley crouched down to look Adam in the eye. "Adam, what are you doing, going for the knees? What have I told you?"
"Always go for between the legs first and then once they're down, you poke them in the eyes," Adam quoted dutifully.
Crowley smiled and scruffed the Antichrist's hair. "There's a lad."
"You're alive!" Anathema proclaimed, clearly surprised. "Not that we assumed you were dead. Well, I guess we did kind of assume you were dead, and you being in another universe was the only alternative to you being dead. But anyways, we are very happy to see you."
"Erm. Thanks," Crowley said faintly.
"Where's Aziraphale?" Newt piped up.
"Coming. We've uh, got a bit of a situation." Crowley's eyes darted to the Them, looking up at him expectantly. "Can't you lot go outside and play for a second? Adults need to talk."
"We fought the Four Horsepersons of the Apocalypse and you want us to go outside and play?" Pepper demanded. "On a busy London street?"
Crowley groaned, throwing his head back. He scrambled in his wallet, pulled out forty pounds, and passed them to Pepper, who unquestioningly would be the most responsible with the money out of the four eleven year olds. "Go to the cinema. It's down the street, can see it from the window. Be back before afternoon tea or I call your parents. And yes, I have all their numbers," Crowley hissed threateningly.
"Okay, but when we come back we want to know what's going on. And Aziraphale promised he'd bring back a souvenir and I'm gonna be really cross if he doesn't," Adam warned. "Like, really really really really cross."
"Really really really really really really really—" Brian continued for him, and Crowley massaged his temples.
"Go. Cinema. And PG only!" Crowley brandished a finger at the Them. "And leave the 'weapons' here."
With a great deal of grumbling, the children departed, but as soon as they were out in the stairwell of Crowley's building, they began hotly debating what snacks to get at the cinema.
Once they were out of earshot, Crowley turned to Anathema and Newt. "First off, thanks for the uh, helping Aziraphale save me thing. Two..." He threw himself in his throne, draping his legs over the side. "We...might need to capture an Archangel."
Newt blinked owlishly. "Oh. That. That sounds dangerous."
"It is. Incredibly. But we're bringing some friends to help. If you two want to go home, I don't blame you. But if you want to stick around, what's the line? Many hands make light work, or something?"
Anathema sighed.
Then she went to the kitchen and started sharpening her steak knife.
Dean stepped out into the new universe, Sam behind him, and Crowley at the rear.
"Not exactly what I expected," Sam said, noting a flickering, jaundiced light bulb overhead, illuminating a long stretch of barren concrete hall, almost sewer-like. The smell of mildew and piss pervaded everything around them, and Sam stood in a puddle of something. He tried not to think about it.
A poster was pasted unevenly to the wall next to them: "CLEAN UP AFTER YOURSELF. YOUR MOTHER DOESN'T WORK HERE. YOU DON'T HAVE A MOTHER."
"Uh, fellas...I don't think this is Heaven..." Dean ventured.
Screams echoed from beyond their line of sight, gurgling and wet.
"No, I'd say not..." Crowley agreed, cat eyes peering around. "...Welcome to Hell, boys."
1. Unfortunately, with Bobby's death, every brain cell available for Team Free Will's use had been lost.
2. They had no sooner stepped out of the cell that Aziraphale had pressed a hand to Crowley's head and healed him fully. The demon had collapsed in relief against him, and Aziraphale held him tightly while he healed his own head wound, leaning his cheek against Crowley's. Naomi had looked on in dim horror, but Aziraphale couldn't have cared less—which alone was a very new feeling for him.
3. It was true that even if Anathema had closed the portal, reality would still be thread-bare enough to tear through again, from either side, but Aziraphale feared that should they continue to rip through in the same location over and over, it would eventually grow, and either become impossible to close, or the barrier between their two worlds would grow so gossamer that things would break through from one side to the other. Worst case scenario, their two realities could begin to blend, and of all the things he wanted to avoid, that was very very close to the top of the list.
4. Aziraphale wished he could accompany them, but in Heaven, he was...recognizable, to say the least. He rather imagined every dartboard in Paradise had his face pinned to it, at the moment.
5. The spell had worn off years ago, but Dean still felt himself occasionally overwhelmed by the irrational urge to chase after cars, or urinate on fire hydrants. Also, he still hated pigeons.